


The Apocalypse Goes On

by Lunarwolfik



Category: Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Apocalypse, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarwolfik/pseuds/Lunarwolfik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen had always thought the end of the world was going to be some apocalyptic catastrophe full of mayhem, heads rolling, and the dead walking the earth.  In reality, it’s a lot cleaner and a lot less dinosaur-filled than he could have hoped for, although that walking dead thing seems to stick.  There’s this whole big epic battle being fought between Lucifer and Michael over the pond, with either winner intent on screwing over humanity one way or another.  </p><p>Owen's pretty sure Lucifer's version would have involved a lot more fire and brimstone, while Michael was (from all reports out of America before communications went down) more about the smiting white light and smug proclamations.  Either way, it wasn't going to end pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apocalypse Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I just get the urge to write about the apocalypse. This is a Torchwood/Supernatural AU crossover, where the apocalypse is bit more pressing and a bit less stopped by our favorite Winchester boys.
> 
> Owen and Jack are not amused.

One minute, sweat is beading on Owen’s brow and Tosh’s somber words are echoing through his head. The sweeping feeling of it being over, finally _over_ , is a thread of relief amidst the fear and trepidation. There’s hot, hot, heat and then, quite suddenly, there’s nothing.  


The next minute he’s spitting dirt out of his mouth and scrabbling at the confines of a cool metal box surrounding him. Mostly, all he can think is _not this again._

***

As it turns out, it’s the end of the world (again) and he’s back from the dead (again). Although neither Jack nor him can offer up a reason as to why death decided he was a likely candidate for return when Tosh and Ianto are still cold and lifeless in the vault, in any case, it’s happened. Jack swears up and down that he had nothing to do with it, and for once Owen believes him.  


Owen had always thought the end of the world was going to be some apocalyptic catastrophe full of mayhem, heads rolling, and the dead walking the earth. In reality, it’s a lot cleaner and a lot less dinosaur-filled than he could have hoped for, although that walking dead thing seems to stick. There’s this whole big epic battle being fought between Lucifer and Michael over the pond, with either winner intent on screwing over humanity one way or another. 

Owen’s pretty sure Lucifer’s version would have involved a lot more fire and brimstone, while Michael was (from all reports out of America before communications went down) more about the smiting white light and smug proclamations. Either way, it wasn't going to end pretty.  


All in all, Owen’s glad the Americans were stuck with bloody angels and left the rest of the world to feel the effects of world-class smiting and hell-raising. At least he didn’t have to listen to them yammer on about how high and mighty they were.

***  


It takes two weeks for Jack to finally tell him about Gwen.  


Apparently, an angel had decided she was quite lovely (and she was, really) and had decided to take her for a test drive. Permanently.  


There had been a bright white light and Gwen had screamed and screamed. And then she’d been different. Jack said there was nothing he could do.  


She’d walked off with a chuckle and a thanks for the new digs.  


When Jack had run into her again, she’d been wearing leather. Dark and supple, it had clung to her frame like a second skin. Her eyes had been hard-edged, glassy and full of self-righetousnes. Her hair had been shorter and her smile had held no mirth.  


She'd said Gwen only agreed if all her friends were safe, her loved ones safer.  


She'd said Gwen yelled a lot on the inside, that it wasn’t what she’d signed up for.  


She'd said Gwen gave up being free a long time ago.  


It had broken Jack’s heart. He'd shot her once with a tear-streaked face. It had been a vain hope.  


The angel had _laughed_ at him.  


Jack confesses the whole thing to Owen one booze-filled night with tears in his eyes and a broken voice. Owen wishes he'd never asked. 

They never see her again, but Jack hears reports of a weeping angel that has nothing to do with statues from then on. They call her the silence before the fall.

***

In the end, there’s nothing either of them can do. Jack calls the famous Doctor of his, but there’s no response. He was probably swanning off with some new thing and didn’t have time to deal with Earth’s problems.  


The angels can’t be smited and the demons just keep coming back.

***

“This is the most boring apocalypse ever,” Owen says, taking a swig of his now very stale and very lukewarm beer.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Jack says pointedly, even as he does the same.

“It’s the end of the world and we’re stuck in a boat full of animals pissing themselves every few hours. My digestive issues are the least of my worries,” Owen replies, taking another swig just to prove his point.

Turns out the angels had a big hard-on for Old Testament style punishment for the earth. Second verse same as the first, they were hoping to wipe the slate clean again with a good ol'fashioned Noah-and-the-Ark style flood. Owen figures it's a cry for attention or some shit.

Jack and Owen had snuck onto the boat because no matter how many times they both died, drowning always sucked. The only thing worse was waking back up to water in your lungs and another round of drowning. 

New Age Noah and his brother don't seem to mind their tresspassing when they stumble onto them a week into the voyage. The boys pet angel makes a face at them, calling them unclean, unnatural, and an abomination, but really, it's nothing Owen hasn't heard before.

***

“Now what?” Owen asks dejectedly, solemnly slumped against the rail, watching lightening flicker on the horizon, the boat rocking back and forth beneath his feet. He takes a deep unneeded breath, tasting salt air and desolation.

“Rumy?” Jack asks with a quirk of the brow, holding up their well-worn stack of playing cards.

Owen sighs. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Jack starts shuffling the deck. 

The apocalypse goes on.


End file.
